For those who remember that TV show from decades ago, you know that everyone who arrived on Fantasy Island always left happier than when their flight landed. If they were lonely, they left with a love by their side; if they arrived to take advantage of someone, they were caught but their supposed victims were saved; if they came despairing, they left with newfound hope. Fantasy Island cured all ills. So what better fantasy vacation than Fantasy Island? Except, I’ve been to the LA arboretum that served as the outdoor FI set and know that it was after all, just a show. My real fantasy island, and where I’d go back if I could, is Great Britain.
I’ve been lucky enough to go to Great Britain three times, once with my mom and aunt, once to combine a driving tour through Scotland with my college roommate, to visit my mom and aunt who were living temporarily in York, and finally to attend an Oxford summer program, and once to spend a week in London with hubby. I enjoyed it each time.
A year before my first trip, I borrowed multiple issues of In Britain 
magazine to read about a country I had no working knowledge of. So much of what I saw in the magazines I wanted to see for real but of course there was no way. Still, I had a good idea of what was available and sights that might interest me but not my mom and aunt. Nothing disappointed!
But even with all my planning, I still haven’t seen any of Wales. Nothing of Cornwall or Norfolk or Devon, or any number of other places I’ve read about in literature all my life. I haven’t seen the corners of Scotland or the far Highlands, or any of the islands, other than Skye, which in itself is magnificent. There’s still so much I want to see and do, but it’ll have to wait to be addressed in further dreams. That’s why Great Britain is my fantasy island and dream vacation spot.
Read the next blog in the blog hop by going here.
Dee
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